Operation Whirlwind
by WiLFy McMuffin
Summary: Gregory Parkson is in Russia tasked with assassinating a big player... little does he know that the personal aspects are a bit more severe than expected.


**Operation Whirlwind**

31st December 2010

Somewhere in Russia

It was cold, damn cold. So cold it went deep into the bones and made you feel like you'd been kicked in every joint until it shattered, and boy can I tell you, that's exactly how I felt. My feet were soaking wet, even through my army issue boots, and although I was wearing over six thick layers of wool and leather, my arms and legs felt like death.

The weather was terrible. Visibility was minimal due to a fierce snowstorm, and the floor was coated in a thick blanket of snow.

If anything was going on around me, I wouldn't be able to hear it. The sound of the wind was so loud it would be impossible to hear anything over two metres away. Not good considering I was supposed to be listening out for Anna.

I checked my watch; it was 10:07.

We'd been on the ground in Russia for the last seven days, but these last few hours felt like days in themselves. We only had to wait two hours until midday, and then we'd place the bomb. God knows why we were given a whole week to prepare. I reckon it was just so they could chop my legs off when I went home with frostbite. Luckily I'd been able to avoid frostbite this time, so hopefully, I'd be keeping my legs.

I was led on the ground, the wet soaking through my supposedly waterproof groundsheet. My outer makeshift shelter covered me from the intense weather on the outside, and perhaps even more importantly, sheltered me from the Russians. My shelter had been built up out of sticks and fur coats, and then it was covered in snow to disguise it. It was warmer than the outside, but it was still freezing,

We'd been sent to Russia to kill someone, but we didn't know who. The MoD (Ministry of Defense) had been keeping all these things hush hush, apparently not even the Rupert knew anymore than us about this particular subject. All we knew was, we'd had to plant a small explosive device on a vehicle, and then at midnight tonight, we were to detonate it. Then we were to kill any survivors of the blast before navigating through the city and calling for extraction. Sounded simple at first, but complications arose even before we touched down. We had lost two members of the team during the first half an hour, when our Chinook was detected hovering over the DOP (Drop off point). Within minutes of landing, a whole Russian task force had arrived at the DOP, and were pinning us down. They killed Marley, captured Harry, then tried to finish us off, but we were already out of the area.

Hopefully tonight we'd get them back for killing our friend.

A blast of wind shook the shelter, and I shivered uncontrollably. Never again would I come to Russia, ever! I've never felt so dead in my life. I couldn't move my arms, I couldn't move my legs, all I could do was wait, staring into a grey whirlwind of grey's and whites.

I checked my watch again, and was disappointed when I saw that only two minutes had passed. I was tired of waiting; I wanted to get this over with.

I rubbed my hands together and watched the condensation flow from my mouth as I breathed. It came out in swirls, as if I'd just taken a drag from a cigarette and blown it back out. I even managed to blow condensation rings, which was quite a feat for me; I enjoyed making stupid challenges for myself when I was bored, but the condensation one had been a goal of mine for three full days.

As soon as the condensation got boring, complete boredom took over me again, and I decided to run through the plan yet again. When Anna returned, we'd have a nice collection of weapons to deal with things when they got hot, and there was no doubt that they would. Then once we'd picked our weapons, we'd move into the village, and use an OP (Observation Point) that we'd decided on the day before. Hopefully, by the time we'd arrived at the OP and got ourselves comfortable, there wouldn't be long before we'd have a visual of the target, and we'd be able to rig up the explosives. We only had a small time window that the vehicle would be unsupervised, and that was when the target himself was being escorted into his house by the guards. I didn't know why we couldn't just shoot him and be done with it, but I didn't really give a fuck. I just wanted out as soon as possible. We'd only have about thirty seconds that we could place the charge, so we'd need to keep a constant eye on the road that flowed around. Luckily for us, there was a massive flaw in the road system: the road ran right behind the house, but there was no way into the house, so any visitors would need to drive a mile around to reach the front. We'd detect the vehicle behind the house, and give ourselves time to get into position so we could just run and plant the charge. I'd be the one placing the charge, and Anna would be on the rooftop with a .50 (Barrett .50 caliber sniper rifle) making sure I was safe if there was a drama.

The next stage is where the complications arose. We needed at least three people to do this as well as we wanted to; one to keep watch on the house, and two to stay at the point where the bomb would go off.

Apparently the man was very punctual, and if he says he is going to be somewhere at a certain time, he meant it. That was good for us, but we still didn't trust the info. We were supposed to be placing a timed explosive, but I point blank refused to do that, and took a remote C4 charge. It meant that if he happened to not be where we calculated he would be at midnight, we could detonate when he arrived anyway. We didn't want the explosives going off in a crowd of civilians, which is exactly where the car would be at 12:03 if the man was as punctual as the MoD claimed he was.

The reason we were using western technology on this operation was another thing I couldn't understand. Surely if it's a deniable operation the MoD doesn't want anything linking it back to the west? Fuck it; there was no way it would be linked to me personally.

Once the bomb went off, the car would be totaled, and it was most likely that most, if not all of the occupants would be dead or critically injured beyond repair. Four kilograms of explosive is a lot of boom for just one family car, even if it does have armor plating.

The real problem would be the trucks and jeeps that usually follow the car around, one of each in front and behind. Each truck could probably fit about twenty soldiers in, and each jeep had a bloody massive .50 machine gun on the back. I couldn't bring myself to think of what would happen if we didn't deal with the guns on the jeeps before we set off the bomb.

I was deep in my thoughts when I heard a noise from beyond my shelter, or whatever you might want to call it. Instantly I reached for my handgun and checked chamber.

I heard the noise again, it sounded like snow crunching under boots, and instinctively moved my thumb to the safety catch for a quick release incase a problem arose.

Slowly and carefully I raised myself onto my hands and knees, my arms almost buckling under the unexpected movement. I'd been so cold and still the last few hours, I hadn't realized how much pain I was in. I gave my arms and legs a few seconds to get used to the change in position, and then moved into a crouch position, pistol raised in front of me.

The noise came again, something was definitely walking out there, and I just hoped they hadn't heard me get up just then, but if they were close enough for me to hear them, chances were they could hear me struggling in my little shit-heap of sticks and fur coats.

I thought about calling out the code word they used in world war two to identify friendly's. One person would shout thunder, and if the person was a friendly they'd reply with flash. All well and good if the person already knows you're there, but if they don't know, are hostile, and you call out in a foreign language, well let's just say my hidey hole would be filled with holes.

Fuck it, if they were enemies they'd find me anyway, and Anna would be having trouble noticing my "shelter" after the last snowfall, if probably just looked like a mound of snow, and there are plenty of those.

"Thunder" I shouted, my legs shaking from the pressure I was applying to them all of a sudden. Or maybe it was fear? I didn't know. My heart was pumping so hard I could hear it even over my heavy breathing and the wind blowing outside.

The footsteps subsided, and I knew that I'd been heard. I edged my way towards the small opening in the bottom of the shelter, and crawled through slowly, soaking my knees even more from the wet snow. As my head exited the gap, and then was met by a fierce wind and snowfall, instantly freezing my face to an even worse state. I instinctively moved my free hand out of the gap, and held it in front of my face to protect my eyes, before pulling the Pistol hand and checking each direction.

Clear left, clear right.

The crunching noise of something walking was barely distinguishable over the wind, but I still heard it. I got up slowly, keeping my pistol aimed at where I thought the noise came from; the other side of the shelter.

I carefully stepped around the corner, keeping my weapon trained on the top, and then took a couple more slow steps. I heard the crunch again, and then I saw it: as I stepped around the last corner, led down in the snow, licking his balls, was a Wolf.

He flinched as he saw me, his eyes narrowed and he jumped up to attack. I didn't particularly want to get in a fight with a Wolf, I'd lose. I aimed the pistol and fired two suppressed shots. The first round hit in the chest, and the second hit in the side of the head. There was a loud yelp, and it dropped to the ground.

I lowered the pistol cautiously and sidestepped warily to the Wolf. Fuck knows where the rest of them were, maybe lying in wait for me to kill the thing, and then they'd pounce on me for a nice meal. Wolves were pack animals; you didn't come across a lone Wolf very often.

I reached the wolf's body and reached down to check it was dead. Warm blood oozed from each entry wound, and steam rose from the surface. I bent down slowly, and put my hand out to check its pulse. Just as I had expected: it was dead.

I stood back up and flicked the safety on before holstering my pistol. The cold was seriously getting to me now, my bones were shaking and my lips must've been blue, they were that cold!

The last time I'd been this cold was when I was twelve, on holiday in Scotland. I remember my mum saying, 'Gregory dear, don't go too far now will you?'

Fuck listening to her; I was going to go as far as I wanted.

I'd packed my ruck-sack with all the necessary gear: hat, gloves, scarf, food, emergency food, and a lot of water. Then I'd filled the rest of the backpack with spare clothing and a pair of shoes. I was ready for an expedition.

First things first, I planned my route, or more made my sister plan it while I sat back and gobbles on a Snickers bar, and then I got on with the walk. I'd had no experience of walking before then, and I'd always wanted to be like my dad, who conveniently was never around.

I walked on, alone and underequipped, for over three hours, and then checked the map. It must've been the first time I swore, because I don't remember saying the words,_ 'Mother fucker!' _before going on this walk. I'd got myself lost, and all because I hadn't taken the time to plan my own route. I went down with hypothermia, and I didn't recover fully for about three weeks. I hadn't packed a survival bag, which had been my biggest mistake. Eventually my sister came into my room and admitted that she'd done it on purpose, but was glad she called the air ambulance when she did. She'd wanted me to get lost! Since that day, I'd never let anyone plan a route for me.

Well now was different, I had a survival bag, and I'd planned my own route! But I was still fucking freezing, and wasn't quite looking forward to the hypothermia again.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and spun around to see what caused it.

Anna was stood, a massive grin on her face, right in front of me. Her AK-47 was holstered over her shoulder, and her Beretta was in her right hand. I tilted my head slightly as if to motion towards the gun, and looked back at her. She just shook it slightly, and kept on smiling. Maybe it was time to verbalize.

"What's with the gun?" I asked.

"It's for protection, genius."

"Protection from what, there's nothing to protect against!"

She raised her weapon arm and pointed to the dead wolf.

"Ah."

"But there's no need for protection, right?"

She had a point, but I wasn't going to admit I was wrong, it was time to get to business.

"See anything interesting?"

"You mean apart from the wall of fog, the snow, and my own arms?"

"Uh… yeah."

"No, I didn't. Did you?"

"Did I fuck? The only thing I saw was a wolf, and it's dead now."

I still felt bad about what had happened at home, and I'm sure it was still lingering in her mind. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was, and that I'd do anything to make it up to her, but the best I could come up with was, "About the other night…"

She shook her and kneeled down in the snow before crawling slowly into the shelter.

"We haven't got long." Her voice was muffled. "Let's get ourselves to the OP and get comfortable, before we forget about the job."

Like that was going to happen.

*

I don't know what's worse. Being led in the snow for hours on end, or being led with your knees digging into a concrete roof, with the snow falling on your back for just ten minutes. At the moment I reckoned the snow was preferable.

Anna was led next to me on the roof; her eyes weren't leaving the target zone. I wasn't taking it so seriously; there was still forty-five minutes before the target was supposed to show, and I couldn't be bothered to wait lying strait. I'd always had trouble sitting still. I still could never understand why they appointed me as the sniper. Doesn't that involve patience?

I reached into my pocket and withdrew a Yorkie bar, courtesy of the convenience store.

"Gimme a bit."

I looked at the wrapper, and smiled to myself. When you've been in the military for so long, you get used to seeing the military Yorkie slogan of 'It's not for Civvies' rather than the regular slogan. Not this time. In bold silver across the blue wrapper, the words 'It's not for girls' were tattooed across the surface.

"Sorry," I grinned. "Not for girls."

She gave me an evil scowl as I took the final bite of my chocolate.

The street was packed with snowed in cars and vans, and the odd child was throwing snowballs at something I couldn't see. Next to the targets residence was a shop with a name I couldn't quite recognize, and next to that was an Italian restaurant with a sign which probably said something like _Bella Italia _in Russian. The font was quite the same. The road was practically spotless, except for the odd trail of cat footprints dotted between pavements. The snowflakes dropped and swirled like a ballet dancer on a roller-coaster, filling whatever imperfections the snow blanket had.

Visibility was still poor, meaning we couldn't actually see the road behind the target house, but the wind had died down, meaning we could most probably hear the car, unless we were extremely unlucky.

One hour passed slowly and painfully. The cold was still biting every exposed patch of skin, and my knees were rubbing against the solid concrete roof.

This was taking too long; surely it was noon by now? I wished those bloody Russians would hurry up.

Another five minutes passed, and eventually I heard the low rumble of a diesel car engine. This had to be it.

"You hear that?" She must have read my mind.

"I do. Get up, and follow me."

She looked perplexed, obviously about the change of plans.

"We need to plant this charge, and there's no way I'm going to be able to run across the road in eight inches of snow in the time I've got. If you're with me, I can stand next to the target building and not look suspicious. You always need a reason to be somewhere."

She nodded and slowly pushed herself up, as I did the same.

The pain shot up my legs into my thighs as I tried to stand strait. This was going to take some getting used to, especially if this went to shit.

I reached into my backpack to check the explosive, and once I was sure it was there, zipped back up and climbed down the ladder, leaving all my weapons but the Beretta: I might need that.

As my feet left the bottom step of the ladder and touched the floor, my entire body weight pushed down into the eight or so inches of stark white snow, soaking my legs all the way up. As if they weren't wet enough. I was shivering like fuck, but I'd live.

I walked slowly towards the street. As I arrived, Norgrove caught up with me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

I turned and took her hand in mine, and we slowly walked across the street to the building, our feet crunching in the snow.

"Isn't the weather nice?" I asked sarcastically, shivering again.

"I think it's beautiful, it rarely snows like this in England."

"Move to Russia then, it never fucking stops."

She smiled and shook her head slowly, not saying anything. She didn't need to; I knew exactly what she was saying.

We walked hand in hand from the road onto the pavement, and propped ourselves up against the target building. She wrapped her arms around me, and I returned the favor. I felt a spark of warmth flow through my body, and gripped on tighter. I hadn't had to share body heat in such a cold situation for three years, and I'd forgotten how good it felt.

The rumble of the car came back, closer this time, and I turned my eyes to the left to see where it was. All I could see was a pair of headlights breaking through the snowy fog. Then I saw it: a big, silver Mercedes SLK. I tried to see who was inside, but the windows were tinted black. There could be anything from one to four people in that car; I just hoped we'd be quick enough to cope if they did try anything.

One rule of observation was, if you could see the target, they could see you as well. Although I couldn't see their faces, there was no way they wouldn't see us in our fluffy coats, up against their wall.

There was a squeaking of brakes and as the crunching of more snow as the car pulled up in an empty space outside the target house. I saw the passenger and driver door open, and two people walk out. Both wearing suits and wielding a rifle of some sort. They both stopped to look at us. Did we not look natural enough? I moved my eyes back to Anna, who gave me a weak smile. Before she had chance to react, I moved towards her, and kissed her romantically on the lips. Nobody ever interrupts a snogging couple. I kissed with as much passion as I could muster, and just hoped that Norgrove knew this was part of the job and not a personal thing.

She stopped kissing me, and moved her mouth to my ear.

"I love you."

Well, that was just great.

I didn't say anything back and just kissed her again, constantly keeping an eye on the targets. They hadn't gone anywhere yet, and were just watching us in our embrace.

For fuck sake, hurry up!

I felt like a lemon, kissing a girl who had feelings for me that weren't mutual, I didn't want to be the one to tell her that the kiss meant nothing.

Finally, after what seemed like ten whole minutes, the two blokes moved into the building, watching us with smiles on their faces.

_They won't be smiling later when I blow them up. _I quickly pushed Norgrove away, and unzipped my backpack. Norgrove removed the explosive quickly, and passed me the explosives, planting a kiss on my cheek before I walked quickly to the car. I typed in the activation code, 0386718, and planted the sticky explosive inside the wheel well.

I went back to Norgrove and pulled her back into a kiss. She was obviously enjoying it, but I wasn't as much as I wanted to. We'd stay here for little longer, and then we'd move down the road in the different direction to the one we came.

If we moved back the same way as the original footprints, they were bound to notice.

It was almost three p.m. by the time we'd got away from the street and taken cover on the second OP a mile down the road; an even higher roof. The guys in the car didn't even check for devices before getting in and driving back down the street, so luckily they weren't as switched on as much as they should have been. We'd spent the last eight and a half hours sat on the new roof, with the Barrett mounted and a couple of grenades loose, just in case. It was now eleven thirty, and the New Year's celebrations were underway already. People were in the pubs and clubs, gobbing off in Russian, drinking pints and dancing the night away. We'd already seen three couples leave the club and start to snog like teenagers in the middle of the street. This section of the street was completely different from the other end. There were no houses. All the way up and down were rows of convenience stores and Russian night clubs, where the bouncers looked bigger than professional wrestlers. These night clubs must have been better armed than the entire Russian army because I'd never seen as many Kalashnikovs in one place before. The pub at the end of the road had a sign in Russian, which was to be expected in Russia. It probably translated into something like 'Viking's revenge' or something like that. Funnily enough, the night club sign was in English, but all it said was 'Blue'.

Norgrove hadn't said anything since the kiss earlier; she probably still thought it was serious. I wanted her to know it wasn't, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her. She'd kill me, literally.

I checked my watch again. My watch was on midnight, but I'd set it three minutes fast so I could detonate the bomb directly on three minutes past without confusion. Clever eh? New Year's Eve without my family, that was a new one for me. Oh well, I was on an op; I'd need to get my game face on and sort my shit out. I nudged Norgrove on the shoulder.

"Get ready, it's time."

She hefted the Barrett backwards, and passed it to me. I loved these things. They fired a nice big .50 caliber 12.7mm anti material round. Those shells can pierce tank armor and kill the driver, leaving it unable to move. They were also good at another thing: making people unrecognizable. I had James to thank for this baby. Brimson had always hated me, and when I asked for the Barrett, he had just sat there and raised his eyebrow. Then James asked for it, for me, and got it strait away. If the lanky bastard hadn't been there for me, I'd be stuck with an M-21, or some other cheap piece of shit.

I heard a dong in the background, and then another. It was probably a clock tower counting down. In fact, it could have been Big Ben on a television in the nightclub with English writing.

I heard a dong from the night club; it was almost 2011.

I felt a rush of adrenaline, the same one I always felt before the shit started.

I checked that the Barrett magazine was full, and when I was satisfied that it was, I loaded it back into the mag-slot, cocked the rifle and flicked the safety off.

There was a loud cheerful roar and a round of applause from inside the nightclub.

That meant 2011 was here, but I didn't care, I had a job to do.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned to look at Anna. She was pointing down the road, at an approaching vehicle. I checked my watch. It read 11:59:45. Blimey, they said punctual, not obsessed.

The Mercedes pulled up outside the nightclub with a squeak of brakes, and came to a standstill.

I pulled the detonator out of my back-pack and thumbed the button, and then stuck my fingers in my ears expecting a blast.

The driver got out of the car, and so did the passenger. Where was the explosion? I pressed the pressle again: nothing.

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

I pressed it again, and again and again. There was nothing.

The rear door of the Mercedes opened up.

I saw a man step out slowly and cautiously onto the street, wearing a massive fur coat and one of those nasty hats the Russians wear, and a woman in his other hand. He had a rag over her head, and she was wearing what looked like a nightgown. This guy was into kidnapping? Terrific!

He turned his head around, obviously nervous about something. They must've found the charge; that was the only explanation. His face was young and cleanly shaven, with high cheek bones and quite a big nose. His eyes were massive, as were his lips. He wasn't a good looking bloke. In fact, he looked a lot like…

My pager vibrated on my waist. I pulled it up and looked at the screen, then almost dropped it in shock when I saw the message.

Authorized to attack target using any means necessary, preferably using explosive device. If target escapes explosion, eliminate using full force. Target dress is large grey fur coat and Russian made wool hat. Target name is Harry Teach.

It wasn't the unprofessionalism of the message that shocked me, it was the target name. Harry Teach, the guy who dropped in with us, the guy that was 'captured' by the Russian Mafia. He was my future brother in law. Why was he here? Why did I have to kill him? I didn't know, but I had to find out. I couldn't kill Harry. I wouldn't kill Harry. I needed a closer look.

"Sergeant, you stay here, I need to get a closer look at the target." I guessed by the frequent sobs that she knew who the target was.

"You won't kill him will you?" She asked. I didn't reply, but I knew the answer.

I crawled backwards and passed the .50 over to Anna, before taking her Beretta to go with mine. I moved into a crouched position behind Anna, and checked chamber on both handguns while she continued to sob. I got back into the prone position and crawled next to her.

"Anna." I spoke quietly so to reduce the noise, but I tried to sound as frustrated as I could. She turned to me, and I could see the tears streaking down her face. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were puffy. Bloody hell, not even I was this upset! "Shut the fuck up and get into the game, crying won't stop this."

"What are you going to do?"

I didn't answer.

"What are you going to do?" She persisted.

I still didn't answer, the truth was: I didn't know.

I snuck backwards and got back into the crouch position, and then gripped the railing. Pushing hard, I managed to get myself over, and then my hand slipped. I hit the ground with a quiet thud, and rolled myself over to my side to absorb the impact. _Ow!_ That had hurt. Fucking wet railings, why do they have to be so slippery?

I stood and brushed myself down, and backed up against the wall. The club was guarded by three bouncers, all of which looked like they'd come from an episode of WWE. All three of them were bald, and had that evil Russian look with the double chin and massive dark eyebrows. Each was wielding an Ak-74u with a silencer, laser sight and an ACOG scope. This wasn't a small time night club; there was something serious going on here. I walked across the road at a quick pace, but not too quickly. I had to look like I was going somewhere, but you couldn't walk too fast either or it'd look suspicious.

I got to the other side of the road and smiled at one of the bouncers. He gave me a nasty look, and gestured for me to come to him.

"What do you want?" I was mistaken, he wasn't Russian, he sounded like he was from Newcastle.

"Just moved to the area, I want to see the local clubs," I gobbed off in my best Russian.

"It's a couples club; bring a girl." He replied in Russian.

I nodded and turned away without a word, and walked back across the street. Now I knew why it was called blue.

I found the drainpipe on the OP and climbed back up in, and then I crawled back next to Norgrove.

"What was that about?" She asked me, without even looking at me.

"I need you to come with me; it's apparently a couples club."

She finally looked at me, a smile was on her face, and the tears had gone, though her eyes were still puffy.

"Do you think that's why it's called blue?"

I nodded. At least we were on the same page here.

We lay in the same place for another ten minutes, so it didn't look like I'd just climbed up a drainpipe, grabbed a 'girlfriend' from the rooftop, and walked back up again. In the real world, you don't tend to leave girlfriends round corners.

Inside the club was pretty much the same as it was outside: blue. It was pretty easy to get inside; the bouncers hadn't checked us for weaponry.

The noise was excruciating. People were screaming in Russian and English and there was a rhythmic beat of tribal sounding music. It was hurting my head immensely. Five years ago I would have loved it here; maybe I was getting old. Girls were kissing each other and dancing up and down their bodies. There were about five vertical poles spread between the ceiling and floor, and each one had a girl swinging around wearing very little clothing. There were blue neon lights built into the bar and ceiling, and a few windows were exposing 'private sex booths'. I guessed they were one way mirrors, because there was no way any sane person would want to have sex in front of group of teens and their girlfriends.

"Anna, we need to find Harry. Check the booths on that side of the club. If you find him, page me."

She nodded and walked away.

I discreetly checked each booth. They were just a small cabin filled with cushions and an office chair, obviously for different positions. One booth was filled with too many people to count having a nice big orgy, and in the next booth there were just two people doing it the proper way. She had her head in his lap, and he was pulling her hair while he came to his violent climax.

This wasn't the sort of club I wanted to be in, and I'm sure Norgrove felt the same. Some of these people were sick, and it often looked like the girls were underage, but saying that, the legal sex age was fourteen.

I walked past another couple getting jiggy with it, and came to the last booth. It was Harry, naked and pushing himself into a girl I thought I knew. He stopped as he saw me, fear flashed over his face as the recognition came to him. He knew he was in the shit now. He threw the girl on the floor and ran to his clothing that was chucked over a chair.

I saw panic in his eyes as he looked at me a last time as he grabbed the girl by the hair and pulled her up violently. I got my first real look at her face; I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was Mary Teach, my Fiancé, and Harry's sister. What sort of sick fuck rapes his sister? What sort of sick fuck would even consider having sex with his sister? Anger engulfed me. Fuck what I had said earlier, I wanted him dead.

Then he burst out of the door. I pulled the pager out and pressed the Auto-page button. Norgrove should be here soon, but I couldn't wait for her. I drew my Beretta, flicked safety off and double-tapped. The first shot shattered the glass; the second brought it down to the floor. There was a crashing noise, and screams echoed all around me. People were running like a stampede of Wildebeest.

Norgrove ran up next to me and pulled her Beretta out of my other pocket before checking chamber and jumping through the glass. I followed her and ran into the rear corridor.

The sounds of screams were muffled down as I shut the sex booth door behind me. The couple I had seen in the booth next door was cowering in a corner, trying to get clothes on but shaking too much. I stepped over the shaking bodies, and moved away. I felt sorry for them. All they'd wanted to do was have public sex on New Year's Eve.

"Sorry." I said quietly, and ran toward an open door at the end of the hallway. There was nothing on my mind but catching Harry. He'd deceived the entire team, kidnapped and raped my girlfriend. He'd gone too far. I sprinted along the corridor and swung round the doorframe, not caring whether Anna was still behind me. The door led us into a room full of naked people, obviously oblivious to the fact that there were gunshots going off. The room was just a massive hall, similar to the main room, but this one had two curving stairways on each side of the room. The room was red now instead of blue, and rather than having sex booths at the side, the room was just one big sex booth.

One of the club bouncers ran down the left set of stairs. He didn't even have time to draw his gun before Norgrove double-tapped him and he dropped down the stairs in a heap. Now the naked people were panicking, and too right. We jumped over the dead body, and I put my hand on the banister while we ran up the stairs. My hand ran through some blood, but I didn't care. As I reached the top of the stairs, I heard the familiar sound of an AK-47 being fired on full-auto. Bullets smacked into the plaster behind us, and tore holes the size of pancakes through to the cold outside. I jumped to the floor, and aimed my pistol. I double-tapped the guard, and watched him dropped like a rock, two holes in his head. It wasn't safe yet. There was another thunderous crack of AK fire, and more heavy thuds as they slammed into the wall. I was scared shitless as plaster rained on my head, Anna probably felt the same.

I looked around to find the guard, but I couldn't see him. Bullets were getting closer now, slamming into the laminate flooring around my head.

_Fuck!_

The tribal music beats were still going for it, and now the bass was even heavier. The music and the bullets were really not good combination for stability; I felt I was going to pass out with fear. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and heard Anna screaming into my ear.

"Get the fuck up."

I shook my head violently; I was getting a headache.

"Get up, get up!"

I pushed hard onto the floor and hefted myself onto my feet. There was an open door on one side of the room, and a closed one on the other. Norgrove looked at me, and I nodded my agreement. We ran to the open door and slipped through. I heard a female scream.

"Mary!" I yelled.

Fuck, I had to get there. There was no way I'd lose her. I couldn't lose her. I loved her.

I ran round the corner and came face to face with two men, both bald with double chins. I fired five rounds without aiming, and then hid in the doorway again. There was a low moan as one of the guys lost his footing, and another as a bullet hit his buddy in the face. I ran from my cover, with Norgrove behind me, and kicked the surviving guard in the head. I heard a muffled crack as I cracked his head open. I didn't care; all I cared about was Mary.

As the beat of club music died down, I heard the thump of a Helicopter. Fuck, were they transporting her somewhere else? Where? I was running out of time. I ran round another corner and made a squeak on the marble floor. It was as if I had left the club and entered a different building. The floor was black and white marble tiled, and the walls were magnolia. There were lights a metre long stretched along the corridor, and along the wall there were pornography pictures of all the models in the club. I ran past one that read 'Blue Pride' and continued running.

My feet pounded against the solid floor as I ran past open doors. I heard a gunshot go off and just hoped that it was Anna doing the shooting. I hadn't even heard the shots when I ran round the corner at full pelt, but I was feeling quite like Neo from the Matrix as I dropped to the floor to prevent a couple of 9mm round giving me the good news. I dropped onto my back but tried to pull myself up. I ended up half crawling, half crouching, half running moments where you run on your legs but pull yourself on your hands too. I was too busy to care what they thought anyway, they'd be dead soon.

I hung my pistol round the corner and fired three shots. An automatic burst was fired in response, and tore holes in the magnolia wall. The boss of this club wouldn't appreciate the bullet holes in his picture frames. Come to think of it, who was the boss? Never mind that, I was still busy.

The helicopter had now completely blanked out every other noise apart from the gunshots. I kept screaming for Norgrove, but she couldn't hear me. Another bouncer, this time not as bald as the rest, was involved in a hand to hand fight, and by the look of it, he was winning. The gunshot that splattered his face across the corridor changed that, and within ten seconds Norgrove was stood next to me.

"Sitrep?"

"We got two guys, one with a 47, and other with a Beretta."

She nodded and pulled her top up slightly. I knew why though; she was the only one out of the four of us to bring any grenades, and she hid them in her belt loop.

I wiped sweat off my face as more 9mm and 7.62 ripped plaster from the wall. Norgrove still hadn't finished getting the grenade out of her belt; what the fuck was taking so long?

"Hurry the fuck up, I need to get Teach!"

She didn't acknowledge me, and continued fiddling with her belt loops. I took a quick peek round the corner, immediately regretting it: a maelstrom of bullets soared past my face; almost taking my head clean off.

In the half second I had my head around the corner, I managed to see a door at the end of the corridor leading outside. All I needed to do was—

My thoughts were shattered by an explosion and a muffled scream. I kept debating with myself whether to run now, or wait for the dust to settle. Fuck it, she might be dead if I wait.

I turned round the corner into the corridor. The walls were no longer Magnolia: they were a nice mix between red and black, with a few pinkish blobs. I resisted the urge to heave as I ran over a dismembered arm.

The door looked only a few metres away now, I kept running at full pelt.

I ran out of the door onto a fire escape overlooking a courtyard and felt the wind hit me at full blast. I'd forgotten how cold it was outside. The helicopter noise had amplified times one-hundred, and I heard a few shouted and screams from below.

Down below in the courtyard, I could see a Mi-24 _Hind_ helicopter – Russia's best gunship.

A few metres to the right, Harry was pulling Mary's naked body along the floor to the _Hind_ by her hair, not caring how much pain he caused her. I felt the anger surge through me again: I wanted this man dead!

I ran along the fire escape towards a staircase and took the stairs three at a time. I went down one level, then two, and before long I was on the lowest level of fire escape, only about eight metres up.

Harry had stopped dragging Mary now, and was holding his face. I saw blood gushing from his nose. Fuck no! What had she done?

His eyes were burning with rage towards Mary, but I'm sure it was nothing compared to what she felt towards him.

It all happened within an instant. He drew a Glock 18 from his too big trousers, and before Mary could react, he had flicked the safety off and fired. I called out to her as loud as I could, but it was no use: she was dead. The round had hit her in the head, killing her instantly. What the fuck had she done to deserve that? What had I done? She lay on the snowy floor as Harry wiped his bloodied face. He raised the pistol again and fired round after round, each impacting on her body; a few more to the head, a few to the stomach and chest. He holstered the gun and walked onto the Helicopter, as if he hadn't just violently killed his sister.

The _Hind_ increased its revs at it took off and flew away. The sound died away until the courtyard was silent.

All that was left was Mary's body, cold and lifeless in the courtyard. There was no point in running down to her body and burying my face into her hair; that wouldn't bring her back. Nothing would. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I knew it was Anna's, who else would put their hand on my shoulder?

"Sorry lad." Or maybe not then.

I turned and looked Captain Brimson in the eyes; they were, for the first time I'd seen, sympathetic. How had he got here?

"Are you ok?" What the fuck sort of question is that?

"Yes, I'm fine." No I wasn't, and he knew it. I couldn't contain myself; I burst into tears.

"Calm down lad, calm down." He pushed my head into his shoulder and hugged me.

Norgrove was stood next to him; she had her sympathy face on as well. If only they knew that I knew that it was fake.

There was a nice silence, everything but the wind and the distant beat of club music had gone quiet. It didn't last long though.

"Now lad, tell me what happened."

I explained in full detail the events of the night, completely oblivious to the cold.

"Do you reckon you need time to recover?" He asked me.

Did I fuck? I just needed my gun back. Someday, the bastard that misused my trust, ruined my future, and killed my fiancé, was going to pay big time.

To be continued…


End file.
